Point of View

Op-Ed: 36 years after Bay Agreement, Restoration still a Pipe Dream by Gerald Winegrad

January 22, 2020 by Bay Journal 1 Comment

December 9 marked the 36th anniversary of the signing of the first Bay Agreement at George Mason University in Virginia.

As a state senator serving on the Chesapeake Bay Commission, I joined 700 Bay enthusiasts as witnesses. The one-page Chesapeake Bay Agreement was signed by Maryland, Virginia and Pennsylvania’s governors, DC’s mayor, and the head of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, all of whom solemnly pledged to restore the Bay. I was also a member of a workgroup that recommended legislative actions for each signer that would aid the Bay’s restoration, including a phosphate detergent ban that I sponsored and was enacted in 1985.

All of the attendees — elected federal and state politicians, scientists, administrators and environmental leaders — were optimistic that the herculean task ahead would lead to the Chesapeake’s restoration. The optimism was fueled by the display of bipartisanship that led to President Ronald Reagan declaring in his 1984 State of the Union address, “Though this is a time of budget constraints, I have requested for EPA one of the largest percentage budget increases of any agency. We will begin the long, necessary effort to clean up a productive recreational area and a special national resource — the Chesapeake Bay.” The formal Bay Program under the EPA was established with $10 million in funding.

In Maryland, under the leadership of Gov. Harry Hughes, 10 major Bay initiatives, were enacted in 1984, including the Critical Area Law, as well as the addition of significant funding and staff to move us forward. Many other laws followed, including those that protect wetlands and forests and ban detergent phosphates.But looking back to our optimism in 1983, if we were to have created a nightmare scenario for the Bay, it would be the one we are living in 36 years later!

Make no mistake — without the Bay Agreement and the Bay Program, the Chesapeake would be much worse. Reductions in nutrients and sediment have been achieved despite significant population growth, from 13 million watershed residents in 1983 to 18.3 million today.

Larval shad swim at the Van Dyke Shad Hatchery in Pennsylvania. The moratorium on shad harvest has been in effect for three decades with little recovery. (Dave Harp)

Still, Bay restoration is floundering and the situation is dire:

We have so poisoned our waters that reports abound of serious flesh-eating infections in humans who come into contact with Bay waters. My Annapolis car mechanic, an avid fisherman, contracted a serious infection while fishing the South River and was hospitalized with a chronic wasting disease eating his leg away. He died a year later. This is not an isolated case of life-threatening infections around the Bay.
Most of the Bay’s waters remain severely degraded with 58% of its waters so polluted they fail to meet basic Clean Water Act requirements.

The dead zone in the Chesapeake grew in late July, covering two cubic miles and making it the second-largest late-July dead zone since 1985. The average size for that time period is 1.34 cubic miles. Overall, the summer dead zone was the third largest recorded.

Collapsed fisheries — oysters, shad and soft clams — are at or near record lows.

Rockfish numbers have seriously declined, leading to a mandate from the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission to reduce harvest.

The moratorium on shad harvest has been in effect for three decades with little recovery. The shad restoration goal, agreed to by the Bay states in 2000, for returning spawning shad at the Conowingo Dam was abandoned when there was near zero recovery.

Adult oysters, the most important keystone Bay species, declined 50% in Maryland from 1999 to 2018 despite public funding for oyster restoration exceeding $50 million. Oysters are at 1% of the historic levels of the 1880s. More than 70% of the oyster bars in Maryland are useless for growing oysters because of excess sediment flows, mostly from agricultural operations, hindering recovery. In 2019, the spat set was so low there were not enough seed oysters to replant baby oysters in key areas of the Chesapeake. Oysters filter the water and its nutrients as well as serve as “coral reefs” in the Bay: a foundation for thick, healthy oyster bars.

Bay states failed to meet their 2010 deadline for increasing oysters tenfold. In 2014, the states responded by eliminating this goal as oyster populations declined. The time for a closure of the wild oyster harvest is now, with a transition period to move watermen to aquaculture.

Bay grasses, another essential living resource, are at only 56% of the 185,000 acres originally pledged by the states in 2000 to be attained by 2010. The response by the states in 2014: set an interim goal of 100,000 acres in 2017 and declare success when it was met while remaining far from a delayed goal of 185,000 by 2025. Underwater grass acreage will likely end up being significantly lower when results from last year’s survey are complete.

Many toxic hotspots remain.

What happened to our lofty commitments?

The years from 1983 to 2010 were marked by voluntary efforts under new Bay Agreements signed in 1987 and 2000 in which the states committed to take the actions necessary to meet nitrogen and phosphorus reduction goals aimed at restoring water quality. The voluntary efforts resulted in repeated failures to meet these goals with serious consequences for water quality, living resources and humans. But there were no consequences for the elected officials and states that violated their pledges.

In 2010, the EPA was required, in the settlement of a lawsuit, to impose a pollution diet with hard caps on nutrients and sediment called a TMDL (total maximum daily load). The EPA listed potential sanctions — some very consequential — for failure to take the actions to achieve 60% of the pollution reductions by 2017 and 100% by 2025.

Again, the states failed to meet many of these requirements in 2017, especially for nitrogen. The emasculated EPA fecklessly failed to take any action against even the most recalcitrant states such as Pennsylvania.

We have excelled at nutrient reductions from wastewater treatment plants through the expenditure of billions of dollars and tougher federal limits on such dischargers. The reduction from these plants is “the” singular success story of the Bay restoration efforts as reductions occurred despite wastewater flows increasing significantly to serve a much greater population. The phosphate detergent ban helped in these efforts.

Federal Clean Air Act restrictions have also resulted in significant reductions of nitrogen from atmospheric deposition, especially with tougher new emission controls and the decline of coal burning for electrical generation. Unfortunately, President Trump is undoing these Clean Air Act regulations and promoting coal burning.

We have done the easier things even though decisions made to achieve the great reductions in nutrient flows from sewerage plants, such as the phosphate detergent ban and later the Flush Tax, were not easy.

But now that these reductions have been achieved, the states are faced with much more difficult requirements to reduce nonpoint pollutants, especially those from farm operations — the number one source of nitrogen pollution — and stormwater from developed lands. The latter is expensive to achieve as is upgrading septic tanks for better nitrogen removal. Clamping down on farm pollutants, especially from manure, is the most cost-effective choice we can make and yet efforts lag.

The states are reluctant to enact better regulatory measures governing agriculture. This is compounded by much more intensive agricultural operations, especially large chicken and other manure-producing operations and the expansion of nitrogen-intensive crops such as corn and soybeans.

Unfortunately, the EPA, elected officials and most of the environmental community believe the answer lies in throwing more money at famers to pay them not to pollute. Fully 40% of farm income this year comes from federal subsidies. Farmers have been given more than $1 billion in the Bay states from state and federal sources to reduce nutrient and sediment flows. This carrot approach must now be augmented with some sharp sticks strictly regulating farm pollutants.

Consider that Pennsylvania must reduce its nitrogen loads by more than 30 million pounds in the next five years to meet its TMDL goal, a staggering increased rate of 67 times previous annual reductions. With no new meaningful initiatives, there is a near zero likelihood of achievement even though Pennsylvania is responsible for 40% of the Bay’s nitrogen flows.

Maryland must reduce nitrogen flows by 2025 by 9 million pounds, including a ramp-up in its annual rate of farm nitrogen reduction of 6.4 times to meet its TMDL requirement. Yet the state’s watershed implementation plan lacks any new policies or funding to get the job done.

Since the TMDL was established, 84% of Maryland nitrogen load reductions came from wastewater treatment and those reductions will soon play out and may begin to increase over time. During that same period, only 16% of the state’s nitrogen reductions came from agriculture — the cheapest per pound to achieve — but the political will is lacking to better regulate this major pollutant source.

Then there is the problem of increasing pollution loads from new developments and the failure to reduce loads from existing impervious surfaces. Stormwater rates, volume and pollutant flows from new development must not be allowed to exceed the pre-development flows from storm events, including those from increasingly intense storm events. Funding to accomplish the massive multibillion-dollar existing stormwater problem must also be achieved.

Exacerbating these grave problems is the lack of political will to restore the Bay. The Trump administration’s first budget proposed eliminating all of the funding for the Bay Program. The U.S. House of Representatives passed riders in 2017 and 2018 to prohibit any enforcement by the EPA of the EPA-imposed limits under the Bay TMDL, though they did not win approval in the Senate. And, the states are not initiating the bold actions needed to address these pollutant flows for agriculture and developed lands.

Now, the situation has grown worse: The hopes that were rekindled when the EPA set the states on a mandatory pollution diet with potential grave consequences for failure to comply have been shattered. Dana Aunkst, the director of the EPA’s Chesapeake Bay Program, has now stated that the TMDL with its 2025 pollution caps is “an aspiration” and not an enforceable deadline. Aunkst stated that “The TMDL itself is not enforceable.” This seems to make the whole TMDL exercise a house of cards now collapsing. Without a court victory, we are back to voluntary efforts. At no point since 1983 has saving the Bay been at a lower ebb.

We know that reducing nutrients and sediment works to restore water quality. We know the sources of these pollutants. We know what needs to be done to restore our treasured Chesapeake Bay.

What is most needed is strong political leadership that is so sorely lacking. Also needed is a more forceful and politically effective environmental community promoting aggressive changes to better regulate farm pollution, development pollution and forest loss. We can get it done but not with the current attitudes and near-sighted leadership.

Gerald W. Winegrad is an adjunct professor at the University of Maryland School of Public Policy where he teaches graduate courses on Chesapeake Bay restoration and wildlife management. He served 16 years in the Maryland legislature where he was responsible for many Bay initiatives, including the state’s phosphate detergent ban.

Out and About (Sort of): Founding School Head Leaves Lasting Legacy by Howard Freedlander

January 21, 2020 by Howard Freedlander Leave a Comment

Up to six years ago, I knew little or nothing about children with learning differences. I didn’t understand their travails at public schools. These young people were distraught. So were their parents.

Previous school experiences were sadly unsuccessful.

Saddled with dyslexia—a learning disorder that causes people to find use of letters and words difficult, though their intelligence level is as high as others—and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), commonly linked with inability to concentrate or impulsive behavior—young folks and their parents often face academic and social despair. Some young people might be on the autism spectrum.

Chrissy Aull, founding head of Wye River Upper School (WRUS), now located in the wonderfully renovated Maryland National Guard Armory in Centreville, joined with her friend, Patricia McGlennan, to establish a special place for high school students with few good choices, to use their good brains and learning differences to succeed and move on to college.

WRUS is more than a school. It provides a safe, welcoming environment where students unaccustomed to feeling good about themselves, find that others share their academic challenges.

Chrissy Aull is retiring in June, 2020. In a letter sent last week to the WRUS community of alumni, parents, faculty, donors and friends, Alexa Seip, board chair, wrote: “Timing is everything. Wye River Upper School is in a position of strength. Enrollment has increased. Budgets have been balanced. A faculty team is delivering transformative education.

“Chrissy Aull, founding Head of School, has announced her retirement will take place in June, 2020…thank you, Chrissy, for giving us this school that has given so much to many.”

My first meeting with Aull left a lasting impression. She was enthusiastic, dedicated and dogged about a school that changed the lives of hundreds and hundreds of young people and parents justifiably discouraged about the education and treatment they were receiving in public schools hampered by lack of qualified, though well-meaning teachers and administrators.

Chrissy cared, deeply. She and Patricia McGlennan had sons who needed a curriculum geared to their learning differences. It was their mutual concern about their children that motivated them to found a school originally situated in a classroom at Chesapeake College.

Aull wrote in her letter explaining her retirement: “Few people are blessed as I am to wrap up a lifetime of professional experiences with the knowledge that persistence and passion can result in a legacy such as this one. That is a gift with no equal as I hand over the key to the front door(s).”

Through Tom Seip, who co-chaired the capital campaign for the renovation of the old Guard armory, I learned about the struggles experienced by parents trying mightily to divine a way for their children to succeed and achieve a level of self-esteem that might have seemed unachievable at some point.

I met some of the WRUS students; I was impressed by their abilities to navigate their learning differences and contribute to a safe, comfortable environment.

It’s not easy for a founder of any organization, private, public or academic, to step away from something to which he/she gave birth and nurture. I suspect that in Chrissy Aull’s case, her service as school Head was more a calling than a job. The school she co-founded has provided hope to so many.

Godspeed, Chrissy Aull, on your retirement journey. As you said, you leave an invaluable legacy, one that has enhanced the lives of so many students and parents.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

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Writing a Novel by Jamie Kirkpatrick

January 21, 2020 by Jamie Kirkpatrick Leave a Comment

It’s hard, writing a novel. There are so many things to take into consideration: the title; the names, physical descriptions, and backstories of the characters; the pace of the story; the plots and subplots; historical accuracy. Yesterday, I wanted one of my heroes to drive a Citroën 2CV—a deux chevaux—but the year was 1942 and the deux chevaux didn’t come into production until 1948 so my man had to drive a Fiat 500 Topolino instead; not nearly as good! And what about sex and violence? Sex and violence sell books and you’ll never get your novel turned into a movie starring Julia Roberts and Ryan Gosling if you don’t have at least a little sex or violence or both! I’m telling you: writing a novel is hard; it’s like being a one-armed juggler without a helmet!

It’s hard, writing a novel. Things keep getting in the way: going to the grocery store, making dinner, changing the laundry, taking out the trash, playing golf. Especially playing golf. Everybody thinks it’s easy writing a novel but it’s not. Life keeps coming at you head on and life isn’t always conducive to the discipline of writing a novel. I should know. I’ve started three and finished none.

It’s hard, writing a novel. People think you can write anywhere, anytime, but you can’t. The light’s not good here; this chair is uncomfortable; it’s too noisy; it’s too quiet. Some people think you can take your laptop to Starbucks so you can write your novel while drinking a no-foam latte, or they figure you can write while you’re on vacation, but is it really a vacation if you have to write while you’re on it? I don’t think so!

I’ve heard people say that writing a novel must be good therapy. I suppose there’s some truth to that because it’s kept me from committing homicide. So far.

Then there’s the question of money. There’s always the question of money. Unless, of course, you happen to be Danielle Steele, John Grisham, David Baldacci, Doctor Seuss, or any one of those other Philistines (not you, Doctor Seuss) who turn out bestsellers like Christmas fudge and make it look like it’s easy to write a novel. Maybe it is for them, but I am an artist. I walk a higher, narrower path.

It’s not easy, writing a novel. You can’t tell your friends what you’re working on because then they want to hear all about your novel but you don’t really want to talk about your novel because after all, you’ve started three and finished none and that’s not a very good track record. I realize these friends are just trying to be helpful and supportive, but let’s face it: writing is not a team sport. It’s the loneliness of the long-distance runner, a solitary pursuit. It’s the stuff of introspection, not Martini Night.

It’s hard, writing a novel. It’s relatively easy writing these Musings—it will be four years next week and I haven’t missed a deadline yet!—but my novel weighs on me like an elephant on my chest which is how people describe a heart attack. A novel is a heart attack, day after day after day.

It’s hard, writing a novel. My wife wants to know what I’m going to do today and I tell her I’m working on my novel and I know what’s she thinking: he’s going to sneak out and play golf or take a nap or watch the next episode of The Crown without me! She wants me to go get some real exercise. I tell her writing a novel is good exercise for my mind and she just stares at my belly.

I’m just saying: it’s hard, writing a novel. Ideas come screaming like a firetruck in the middle of the night when all I want to do is snuggle up next to my sweet baboo, but instead I have to get up quietly in the dark and go downstairs where it’s cold and then stare at my computer screen for an hour or two. I might as well go back to bed but I’ve just downed two cups of coffee while writing an entire paragraph so what’s the use?

Believe me: it’s hard, writing a novel. You try it. On second thought, don’t you dare: the competition is stiff enough as it is.

I’ll be right back.

Two collections of his essays (“Musing Right Along” and “I’ll Be Right Back”) are available on Amazon. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com.

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Reclaim the Dream by Nivek Johnson

January 20, 2020 by Opinion 1 Comment

Once again I write you on the Eve of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday. A federal holiday which was first observed in 1983. Today I am feeling convicted, liberated, and inspired. Pause with me for a moment as I quote a passage from Dr. King’s 1963 I Have Dream Speech, “But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land”

Dr. King gave this speech 56 years ago at a period when the Negro wasn’t free. 56 years ago when a society had segregated water fountains, schools, workplaces and communities. It was a society that put faith before fear. A society where the negro was still deemed less than human. As I reflect on 56 years ago and flash forward to our current society; I believe in my heart that the Negro is still not free. Let’s be clear its just not the Negro, but others living on the outskirts of our society; those that are poor oppressed and marginalized. We currently live in a society where we have freedom, but still are enslaved.

I believe it is time to truly Reclaim the Dream that Dr. King preached from the Footsteps of the Lincoln Memorial, that scorching August Afternoon. Reclaiming the dream, is not more than saying we achieved, but expressing and realizing we still have work to do. Today we still have school districts that are segregated, we still have folks living in the slums and ghettos of our society with no financial support. In our current society we have children still being taken from their mothers at the border, we even are still having the discussion on marriage equality for our LGBTOQIA + friends and loved ones.

Reclaiming the dream is not a vision, but a lifestyle. Reclaiming the dream requires: boots on the ground, uncomfortable conversations, destroying and at times building friendships & relationships. Reclaiming the dream requires us to go into places that are foreign, chaotic and complex. Reclaiming the dream is reevaluating the preaching and teachings of Dr. King. Reevaluating to see our growth, and even our short comings. Reclaim the dream for every person not based on color, but on character . Reclaim the dream for the one less like you! When we chose to reclaim the dream, we then become drum majors for justice, architects for change, mobilizers for freedom, but more importantly cultivators of Liberation.

As I said in the beginning I am convicted, liberated, and inspired. I am convicted that I have not done all I should do to reclaim the dream, but am trying through my work as a teacher and public official. I am liberated to know that reclaiming the dream has no barriers, it can start right now in your homes, workplaces and communities. I am inspired to know that we have progressed as a society since 1963, but more importantly inspired to know that there are little fragments of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in each and everyone of us.

However, I am ecstatic to know that We Can Reclaim the Dream. I leave you with these words from The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?” Let’s help others, by RECLAIMING THE DREAM.

Nivek Johnson was born and raised in Chestertown, Maryland. He was educated in both the Kent County Public School System and the Queen Anne’s County Public School System and graduated from Salisbury University in 2017. where he received a Bachelor of Arts in Communication of Arts. He currently serves as the youngest elected member of the Kent County Public Schools Board of Education.

Tall Cotton by Al Sikes

January 20, 2020 by Al Sikes 1 Comment

Is there a top? There has to be if there is an “over the top.” If there is an “over”, what is its definition? The dictionary says “excessive.”

At the risk of abstraction, let me push this inquiry a bit further.

My Dad used the phrase “tall cotton”. He meant better than should be expected, as in “son, you are in tall cotton” when I went to work in New York City. He was right.

New Yorkers are always looking for an experience that exceeds their expectations. But then how do you beat The Sound of Music on Broadway or a jazz set at the Village Vanguard featuring Wynton Marsalis? The truth is you shouldn’t expect it. Great effort, creativity and at least some luck might, just might, draw even.

The ambition to exceed is often debilitating and that is where much of the world finds itself today. In the media, which I know best, exceeding often translates to copying the original but throwing in something outrageous.

Kim Kardashian, the new Marilyn Monroe? Let’s see what iPhone number are we on? Can the Snickers bar get any longer to justify another price increase?

Marketing is awash in “over the top.” As is life; better abs, sex, looks, relationships! The travel Ads write of “unspeakable beauty” and then after hours of unnerving travel you find yourself among the hordes taking selfies to show they have been there. I take no selfies amidst unspeakable beauty or for that matter any time.

Speaking of life, is stability possible? Jobs? Relationships? Family? Books, Ads and Apps are always promising yet more excitement or satisfaction just up the road. Doesn’t seem to be working, as the real growth is about a longing that is often both desperate and elusive?

We certainly know there is growth in new diets for both ourselves and the climate. Both suffer from “over the top.” And we know there is continuing deterioration in civic cohesion and church attendance. What is the cause and effect? Do we spend enough time working toward the answer?

Sometimes when the cotton is tall it is, well, too tall—too much plant, not enough cotton. As the new decade begins, I am looking for understatement and over-delivery. I, we, will have to look hard and not get our hopes up too high. If we find that sublime moment, it is likely to be close to home and with friends and family.

Al Sikes is the former Chair of the Federal Communications Commission under George H.W. Bush. Al recently published Culture Leads Leaders Follow published by Koehler Books.

Focus on Talbot: The STR Problem–Two World Views by Dan Watson

January 20, 2020 by Dan Watson Leave a Comment

At a two-hour work session in mid-December, the County Council discussed and took “straw votes” on almost twenty relatively small changes to the County’s short term vacation rental (“STR”) law. Most of those administrative changes were non-controversial, with support or no serious opposition from citizens and STR business interests alike. However, the big policy issues that many members of public had really come to hear were not taken up, but deferred to a work session being held at 6:00 PM this coming Tuesday evening, January 21st at the Wye Oak Room. Interested citizens should definitely attend.

I believe there are two conflicting world views in play.

MINIMAL STANDARDS, BUT NO LIMITATIONS

First is the belief that it is undesirable to limit the number or location of STR’s in the County in any manner, beyond ensuring each is physically safe and meets some modest operating and design standards.

So long as those criteria are met and an application is properly filled out, every single-family residential property in the unincorporated portions of Talbot County–no matter how zoned, no matter in what type or density of neighborhood, no matter if it shares a private drive with others, no matter if other STR’s are right nearby—should be eligible for an STR license as a matter of right.

Furthermore, the conversion of homes in our neighborhoods to this highly profitable commercial use should not be restricted to Talbot citizens, but is an opportunity purposefully extended to all outside investors, including corporate investors, who do not pay income taxes here, raise families here, or vote here.

Obviously, the primary rationale for this position is economic development (though marginal benefits are what matter), and in any event “economic development” is what must be balanced against other major impacts on the County. As well, it would be good to be clear-eyed as to just who benefits and who is harmed.

The primary proponents of this world view are the local STR property management firms, the Mid-Shore Board of Realtors and a few of its agents working the STR market, and some current STR owners frightened (unnecessarily) that existing licenses are under direct threat. [See recent Spy Article “Follow The Money.”]

RATIONAL LIMITATIONS ON NEW STR’s:

The other point of view is that while STR’s have a place in our community, issuance of new STR licenses must be rationally limited in one fashion or another—otherwise, before it is too late the entire fabric of our residential neighborhoods (and therefore Talbot’s “character and quality of life”, in the language of the Comprehensive Plan) could be eroded.

Why? Because of these new realities that did not exist 10 years ago: Internet marketing; the highly profitable Airbnb/VRBO business model; the sudden emergence here of property management firms aggressively promoting and facilitating this use (the largest not even locally owned); the rise of outside investors focused strictly on this for-profit use; and the high impact a concentration of transient STRs can have on a local neighborhood.

Primary proponents of this world-view are residents of local communities, already affected by STRs, supported by a number of civic organizations, and operators of B&Bs, hotels and motels trying to stay profitable with transient lodging facilities in areas properly zoned in the County.

LIMITATIONS ON NEW STR LICENSES:

There are innumerable ways to rationally limit (but not eliminate) new STR licenses in Talbot County; as Walt Kelly’s Pogo said, we’re surrounded by insurmountable opportunity. The next column will discuss some of these alternatives.

If you read the news, you know the onslaught of Airbnbs and VRBOs all over America, from the largest cities to the smallest hamlets, have caused communities to demand increased regulation of this new phenomenon. Talbot is no different in that respect, though better off than some in that we are ahead of any crisis locally. But remarkably, the Talbot County Council is considering relaxing some existing regulations.

INCORPORATED TOWNS:

Fifty-two percent of the residents of Talbot County are completely unaffected by the STR law; they are the residents of Easton, St. Michaels, and the other incorporated towns, each of which regulates its own STRs. In St. Michaels, STR’s are restricted to commercial zones. And STR’s are appropriately limited in Easton too, as only a citizen whose home is a principal residence is eligible for an STR license. (All five Talbot County Council members live in Easton, and thereby enjoy this protection.)

Attend Tuesday evening’s work session and hear directly from the County Council on STR issues. Six PM this coming Tuesday evening, January 21st at the Wye Oak Room of the Community Center, Ocean Highway.

Dan Watson is the former chair of Bipartisan Coalition For New Council Leadership and has lived in Talbot County for the last twenty-five years.

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Snapshots of Daily Life: Canes by George Merrill

January 19, 2020 by George R. Merrill 1 Comment

My mobility has returned slowly, but steadily. I’m now able to do basics, but no quick moves or heavy lifting. I’m pleased.

I’ve had a cane for a while. After the worst of my back ailments, I used it around the house. Then I abandoned it, doing well without it.

One day, recently, I took an extended walk around my neighborhood. Not being confident of my gait, I considered the practicality of using the cane to avoid falling, but my pride resisted it mightily.

“Why not get into the practices appropriate to the next phase of my life,” I lectured myself half-heartedly. “Consider the cane a kind of warm up for the future.” I only hoped no one would see me. Taking the cane turned out to be a good call, but not without some lessons.

I walked up the driveway out onto the street. I noticed that the cane assisted me in making a surer footing. This increased my confidence. It had been shaken in the last few months. Now, with the cane, I walked longer while experiencing little pain. I was getting into it; placing the cane deliberately to the ground, listening as it struck the ground, tapping rhythmically in synch with my stride; it seemed like a dance. It was neat.

Walking along smartly, I felt proud; wasn’t this like my good old days? Emotionally buoyed, I tucked the cane under my left arm, fancying myself a Marine officer in a movie I’d once seen. He carried a swagger stick. I picked up my pace confidently. I felt jubilant, imperious like a Commander reviewing his troops, the measure of his authority and command resting tidily under his arm. Was he cool, or what? Was I cool, or what?

I didn’t see the rock.

I stepped on it. It turned my foot abruptly. I stumbled just enough to throw me off balance, but not to drop me to the ground. I retrieved my step. Humbled, I returned the cane to its proper use. I’d thought more highly of my new mobility than I ought – or perhaps more accurately, thought of myself as someone I simply wasn’t. I was neither walking in the light I had nor taking the stride that was proper to me.

During this period of my increasing mobility, something else had also been going on within me; the difficulties I experienced in finding my new stride, which I had regarded as limitations for all these months, even humiliations, were not diminishments at all, but another way of being in my world. It was an oblique imperative to slow down and live with increasing awareness of what I was doing in any moment.

Some years ago, I’d done several yoga practices. It was portentous that the walking meditation then was the one exercise that made me the most impatient; it drove me nuts. I was far more of a fidget then. Whether it was walking or doing anything else, I simply wanted to get on with it. I fought against the slow, deliberate measured steps required of the yoga walking meditation. But that’s the only way I can really feel the ground under my feet, the only moments I will ever commune directly with what is always holding me in place no matter what I happen to be about; literally, the ground of my being.

As a younger man, I was an unconscious but willing participant in the frenetic velocity modern culture drives us. I moved quickly, drove fast, walked hurriedly, and wolfed food down – sometimes not even bothering to sit at the table. I answered questions barely taking a breath. I rapidly dispatched anything I was about, getting it out of the way as soon as possible so I could go on to something else. My governor had been stuck for years at full throttle. The challenge to my mental lifestyle began imperceptibly years ago when I first read one of Thich Nhat Hanh’s pithy aphorisms: “When you wash dishes, wash dishes. When you put them away, put them away? I remember reacting to this with a dismissive, “Right, whatever.” However, I never quite shook his thought.

My world view was simple and practical then: dishes were there to be washed and dried and put away swiftly so I could get on with more important things. What was Thich Nhat Hanh getting at anyway?

When I took the cane from the ground, tucked it under my arm and turned it into a swagger stick I lost awareness of where I was my world. I surrendered my alertness to enter an illusory world where I didn’t belong nor ever had I. In the here and now where I walked, my world was in fact right under my feet touching it at every step. Then, too, the more I noticed my steps I also noticed how the ground was strewn with small affirmations of life, past and present. Some were very endearing, like the undulating bodies of the Woolley Bears, executing their tasks of crossing the road to find a place of refuge for the winter.

Others were cryptic. As wind blows hard, Conifer trees broadcast pine needles everywhere and they fall onto the macadam road where I walk. They form curious patterns like Chinese pictograms. The configurations that their thin and supple lines formed demanded my attention, like half completed puzzles. They seemed to express a language of their own as if having left their last habitations on the tree limbs and fallen to earth, and now had a message to communicate to me, something from the life in which they participated as part of the tree. I was a man reading tea leaves.

All very fanciful to be sure except for this: I finally stopped playing soldier that day and got real, and resumed walking with the cane. When I walked, I walked; when I stopped, I stopped; and when I looked at the ground, I looked to the ground and I knew there was no place, at least for those moments, where I wanted to be, except right there where I was.

Columnist George Merrill is an Episcopal Church priest and pastoral psychotherapist. A writer and photographer, he’s authored two books on spirituality: Reflections: Psychological and Spiritual Images of the Heart and The Bay of the Mother of God: A Yankee Discovers the Chesapeake Bay. He is a native New Yorker, previously directing counseling services in Hartford, Connecticut, and in Baltimore. George’s essays, some award winning, have appeared in regional magazines and are broadcast twice monthly on Delmarva Public Radio.

Running Around Race in the Justice System by Angela Rieck

January 16, 2020 by Angela Rieck 4 Comments

Columnist’s note: I am writing a series of columns in anticipation of the February 2020 publication of Margaret Andersen’s book, Getting Smart about Race: An American Conversation.

After my first column, I learned about two organizations that are hosting conversations about race right on the Eastern Shore!

In this column, I want to gain more insight from Margaret about the justice system. As a psychologist, I know that perceptions are facts to people…period.

Historically the justice system was complicit by enforcing Jim Crow laws, looking the other way at lynchings, disproportionately enforcing laws for blacks vs. whites, handing out longer sentences for black people and disproportionately targeting blacks at road stops.

The justice system has improved since the 1960s especially in the south. But it is still not a justice system for African Americans. There are hundreds of statistics showing disproportionate treatment by race. Here are just a few (and not the most egregious). Black American men are six times more likely to be incarcerated in their lifetime than white or Hispanic men. Black Americans are jailed on drug charges 10 times more often than whites, despite similar drug usage rates.

There are half a million people incarcerated because they cannot afford to make bail, most of them are African Americans. Sixty percent of the people in jail have not been convicted of the crime but are jailed because they cannot afford bail. Most have been charged with misdemeanor crimes; riding a bicycle on the sidewalk (yes!), driving without a license, petty larceny, bar fights, resisting arrest, etc. To avoid prison stays of up to 18 months while awaiting trial, 90% plead guilty. For those who ARE able to POST bail, only 2% of the cases result in a jail sentence. To recap, of those who cannot make bail, 90% plead guilty but of those who can make bail, only 2% end up being incarcerated.

These are statistics. The human stories that have sparked the “Black Lives Matter” movement are painful. The most disconcerting to me was the Sandra Bland story: A police officer pulled her over for failing to use her turn signal when she moved over to allow him to pass. After refusing to put out her cigarette, he arrested her using brutal force. Unable to make bail and overwhelmed with depression, she committed suicide in jail.

There are dramatically different perceptions between the blacks and whites about law enforcement. Black parents feel they must “give the talk” to their children about how to stay alive if they are stopped by the police. Yet, whites believe that these incidents, while reprehensible, are isolated and reflect only a few “bad apples.”

Question: How can we have a conversation about these different perceptions?

Dr. Andersen: The first thing I would say is that whites need to be aware that the high rate of incarceration for people of color, men especially, is based on the longstanding stereotype of criminality among Black (and now, Latino) men. Since slavery, black men have been perceived by whites as threatening—a painful irony, given that white men engaged in far more horrid violence against black people than black people did against whites. This is all too easy for people to forget (or, worse, be unaware of). The stereotype of men of color as a criminal threat continues to influence the discrimination that black and Hispanic men face in the criminal justice system. At every stage of the criminal justice process, men of color are discriminated against–likelihood of arrest, discrimination in sentencing, discrimination in administration of the death penalty, and so forth. Even starting early in school, research finds that young, black and Hispanic men are more likely to be disciplined–even for the same behaviors that young, white men engage in.

Question: Why are black rates of incarceration so much higher than for whites? What can be done to fix this?

Dr. Andersen: Social policies that incarcerate people for rather minor offenses (three strikes, you’re out and mandatory sentencing for drug offenses) have contributed to the mass incarceration of people of color–including women of color whose incarceration rates have been increasing. One way to alleviate this problem is to offer alternative forms of sentencing. Sentences such as community service can be more effective and are less likely to result in repeat offenses.

Question: What can our society do to reduce racism in the justice system?

Dr. Andersen: We desperately need policies that offer jobs for those with a felony record. To permanently disenfranchise people because of past mistakes leads to a potential lifetime of unemployment–which can then force ex-felons into the underground economy and, potentially, more crime. I wish we had a culture that was more forgiving, especially considering that so much of the behavior that lands people of color into jail and prison is youthful misjudgment. Ask yourself if you would want some misjudgment in your younger days to change the entire course of your life! To deprive young people of opportunities for work (and participation in voting and other civic behavior) only invites further problems.

To me, the criminal injustice system is one of the most heartbreaking issues of our time. Last year the Chesapeake Film Festival premiered The Sentence. Now an HBO documentary, it told the story of Cindy Shank, a mother of 3, who received a 15-year mandatory prison sentence. In her youth, she fell in love and lived with a drug dealer. Although she never did or sold drugs, she was convicted for NOT reporting him to authorities. Six years after the incident, the authorities arrested and convicted her. The film chronicles her story as a mother of three young children (one of them, six weeks old). It shows the extraordinary damage to her and her family.

There is hope. There are movements to reform the justice system. The movie Just Mercy chronicles the work of Bryan Stevenson, a native son of the Eastern Shore, who has dedicated his life to defend those wrongly condemned and those who did not receive proper representation. One of his first cases was Walter McMillian, who was sentenced to die in 1987 for murder, despite eyewitness testimony proving his innocence.

Other organizations have been created to help. One of my favorites is the Bail Bond project, which posts bail for minor offenses (less than $2000); 50% of those lucky recipients get their cases dropped and only 2% receive jail time.

In the meantime, the more we know, the more we can understand. Dr. Margaret Andersen’s book, Getting Smart about Race: An American Conversation will be published this February 2020.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

Out and About (Sort of): Ethics, Again by Howard Freedlander

January 14, 2020 by Howard Freedlander Leave a Comment

Within recent months, two state legislators and a District of Columbia councilman have resigned after being accused of using public office for personal gain.

One, former Delegate Tawanna Gaines (D, Prince George’s County), has been sentenced for federal wire fraud. She used campaign funds for personal purposes. The other, Del. Cheryl Glenn (D, Baltimore City), has been charged with taking bribes for sponsoring legislation favorable to the medical cannabis industry. And DC Democratic Councilman Jack Evans used his office to gain consulting clients by supporting legislative actions advantageous to them. His colleagues resolved he should resign, and so he did.

Now let’s be clear: political office- holders are constantly helping constituents obtain government assistance in many matters of interest. That’s legal. That’s democracy. What’s illegal is expecting and extorting payment for these services.

I realize that some consider campaign contributions as legal bribery. I well understand that some justifiably bemoan the influence of big money in politics. However, for the sake of absolute clarity, I am referring only to explicit transfer of funds intended to influence a political action in a corrupt manner.

Some think that state legislators, now paid $50,000 for a 90-day session, plus incalculable time spent between sessions serving constituents and participating in legislative task forces, should receive greater compensation.

A member of the DC Council earns $140,000 annually.

How much is enough to avoid being susceptible to extortion?

Not too many years ago, a state delegate, Dan Morhaim (D, Baltimore County), who also was a physician, was found also to be a consultant paid by a company seeking a medical marijuana license. He had pushed for years to legalize medical use of marijuana. His peers reprimanded him. Shortly thereafter, he retired.

Some think that those accused of proffering bribes be fined $100,000.

Some believe that public officials found engaged in illegal behavior be charged with civil actions.

And some may take a different tack: corruption can’t be curbed. The human condition will never change; temptation is too great to resist. Corruption is unavoidable despite well-intended attempts to control behavior. Deterrence may be the best you can accomplish.

Back on my high horse (the same one I climbed on last week, if you recall). The 441st Maryland General Assembly convened on Wednesday, Jan.8,2020. Though it may not supersede the importance of education funding, ethics should be a primary subject.

A.K. Antony, a former defense minister of India and current member of Parliament, said.” There is no compromise when it comes to corruption. You have to fight it.”

What’s blindingly obvious is that trust in government Is sadly low. Politicians general receive low marks from the public. Cynicism grows like a contagion. Consequently, decisions made by our elected officials are viewed suspiciously by the public: was the legislation necessary, and who influenced it?

The public has become jaded. It believes that its elected representatives—local, state and federal—are out only for themselves, beholden to special interest groups with deep pockets. Access is available only to the wealthy and powerful—a common perception.

I ascribe honesty and good intentions to our politicians before I am persuaded otherwise. I’ve worked with excellent legislators on all levels.

I hope and trust that the Maryland legislature will work to eliminate the stench of unethical and illegal behavior. It should institute severe penalties to ensure that delegates and senator understand the career-ending consequences of accepting bribes by selling their offices to the highest bidder.

Annapolis should be the citadel of honest competence, not pervasive corruption. No sleight of hand. No graft. No culture of play to pay. No special favors.

Here’s to a legislative session that declares a moratorium on political corruption, that resolves to serve its shareholders by taking steps to encourage behavior free of illegal entanglements.

The Consolation of Books by Jamie Kirkpatrick

January 14, 2020 by Jamie Kirkpatrick Leave a Comment

I love to read. Not “like,” mind you; “love.” Reading informs me; relaxes me; restores me. It may well be that reading is just another form of escapism, but what’s wrong with that? These days, a little escapism can go a long way.

I’m a supine reader. Chairs are good for the short-haul, but if I really want to take off and go around the world, nothing beats the couch. Except the hammock (in summer) or maybe my bed. At the end of a long day—or, at this time of year, a short day—what’s better than crawling under the covers with a good book? My wife agrees; she says it keeps my hands occupied.

I can’t pinpoint when this reading habit began. I remember childhood stories but I can’t quite see who is telling them to me. I still have some childhood books on my shelves: “Winnie-the-Pooh” (all four books in the series, of course), The Velveteen Rabbit, and a large format edition of a picture book about a little wooden Indian in a canoe named “Paddle to the Sea.” A boy places his toy carving on a frozen hilltop in Minnesota and as spring finally reaches the northland, the snow melts and the tiny canoe slips into a stream that empties into Lake Superior and eventually makes its way into the Mississippi River where it bobs along until it finally reaches the sea. There is a new picture on every page and it was my game of delight to find little Paddle in each one. It never got old. (Actually, come to think of it, that book is no longer on my shelf; my grandson has it.)

In school, I read what I had to read, but with a few exceptions, I had yet to find true love in reading. Girls always seemed to get in the way. One of my great collegiate regrets is that for a survey course on 20th Century American Literature taught by a very popular professor, I finessed my way through the syllabus by reading the cliff notes version of great books by wondrous writers. The final exam consisted of very specific questions about each book we “read.” I failed the exam and spent the next summer making up the credit. My father was not pleased.

But I finally awoke to the joy of reading when I was in the Peace Corps. There are long, dark, cold nights in the high desert of Tunisia and there wasn’t much to do in my small village. So, I read by lamplight. I worked my way through the work of Nicos Kazantzakis; “Zorba the Greek” was fun but “The Last Temptation of Christ” pushed me to higher ground. I explored Arabia with T.E. Lawrence and Wilfred Thesiger. I plowed through Shakespeare and even the Bible, marathons of shear accomplishment more than pleasure. But with each word, each paragraph and page, each new story and plot, I was accumulating a treasure chest of vocabulary, voice, and yes, even knowledge. Now, all those late-into-the-night books are the dividend accounts from which I can draw (tax free!) as a writer.

These days, I tend to choose works of fiction except when David McCullough comes out with a new history or Malcolm Gladwell opens up a new perspective on the world by talking to strangers. I like to think I’ve discovered wonderful new writers like Amor Towles (“A Gentleman in Moscow”), Delia Owens (“Where the Crawdads Sing,”) or, most recently, Téa Obreht (“Inland”), but I have a feeling that a few million other readers can also lay claim to these new voices. It doesn’t really matter who discovers good new authors, I guess; good writing will eventually find its way into the light.

I’m thankful for many things in my life, but at or near the top of the list are eyes to read and places to find good books. I’m ok with libraries and big box stores but dusty second-hand shops (like The Bookplate in Chestertown and Vintage Books in Easton) are the jewels in my browsing crown. It’s where I go to find what I seek: in a phrase borrowed from Alan Furst’s new novel of World War II intrigue, “Under Occupation,” “the consolation of books.”

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with a home in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. Two collections of his essays (“Musing Right Along” and “I’ll Be Right Back”) are available on Amazon. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com.

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